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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069821">Requiem for Hope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/madradena/pseuds/madradena'>madradena</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/madradena/pseuds/madradena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alucard's memories of his last night with Taka and Sumi the morning after...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Requiem for Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't read it, if you haven't seen Season 3 up to the end! Seriously. You were warned. And please, don't forget that my first language is not English, so if you find a mistake, please, be gentle in your criticism.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The events of the night were still playing out in Alucard's head against his will as he was walking back to the Castle after catching his lunch. No matter what he was doing, an occasional image would flash before his mind's eye, and it blurred reality into a far away dream, to the point of making him disoriented. He shook his head.</p><p>"Stop it, idiot," he growled feeling his pulse rising, but he was just as helpless about the memories flooding his mind now, as he was last night, underneath <em>their</em> hungry mouths or bound by their vicious manacles. And the forest faded into nothingness as it all came to him again...</p>
<hr/><p>He was alarmed when the door to his room opened so late at night, and they came in. His mind preparing to face danger, his muscles tightened ready to jump out of bed. To protect them. To be the guardian he came to be for them. But they just sat down on his bed and started to speak on a hushed voice. About him being so good to them. About him deserving a <em>reward</em>. As if he did it to gain anything on it. Anything other than companionship. Before his mind could wrap around their words, they would already lay him back down on his pillow - and then kissed him, one after the other. </p><p>His eyes closed involuntary feeling the lips of another being on his own for the very first time in his life. Warm and moist and loving, yet firm and promising. He obediently opened his mouth to the curious tongue sliding across his lips. It was nothing like he'd imagined kissing to be. When he was a little boy, he often saw his parents kissing, and he always thought, one day he'd have that with a loving wife. Someone smart and beautiful, someone he could talk to, someone who'd have the strength and patience to let him open up. And then it would happen. They would kiss, and he'd make love to her.</p><p>The kisses with them were not like that. Those were hungry and urging kisses that overwhelmed all his senses, all his mind, not letting him open up but demanding him to give it all in one instant. She was already above him, riding him skillfully, when it occurred to him that unlike him, she was experienced. She knew exactly how to touch and kiss a man. Probably, they both had been trained to fulfill the sexual demands of their master. In a single instant of clarity, he thought, <em>'This is wrong, now, I'm becoming that Master!'</em>  But the next moment, a wave of pleasure coursed through him, and that thought was lost along with any other doubts he had in his head. He heard his own voice groaning and felt himself land on his bed from the mindless heights of his climax he'd never before experienced. </p><p>The next thing he knew was him holding them both close. Was it crazy to do that? Were they feeling the same overbrimming emotions he was feeling? It was not love. At least, not the kind of love he imagined he'd feel once he got as close to somebody as he felt to them in that moment. But it was deep and strong. He ran his fingers through their hair. Could this last? Just a little longer. Guilt gripped his heart on that thought.<em> 'As if you deserved anything but the eternal loneliness you doomed yourself to a few months ago.'</em> </p><p>And then a hand slid down his bare chest, a leg moved against his thigh, lips travelled down his stomach, to his groins, and it was all gone again. There was nothing but their hot bodies working against his own, skillful fingers finding just the right places on his skin, teaching him about his own needs, his own desires - his own body. </p><p>He vaguely wondered on the wake of his second climax how the touch of man could feel as right as the touch of a woman. He never looked at men that way, never felt attraction to a male body, but here and now, it was almost as if it didn't matter. They were not male and female here in his bed. They were simply bodies and minds and souls united in pleasure. He felt tears running down his cheek. United. </p><p>He was still under the effect of the blinding pleasure when he felt them running gentle hands up his arms to his wrists. It crossed his mind to entwine his fingers through theirs, and he tried to catch their gazes. </p><p>And then it happened. The burning pain of the manacles was so at odds with the pleasure that he gasped breathlessly at the sensation. The metal wires clasping his body in an iron fist cut into his flesh, filling the room with the smell of his burning skin. He growled in pain.</p><p>"What is happening?" he asked dumbly, his mind still hoping that a reasonable explanation did exist, wanting this to be some depraved part of their night of pleasure. Something he could simply say no to and make it all return to the sensations of the past hours. <em>Anything</em> other than the obvious!</p><p>But deep down he always knew. Otherwise, he wouldn't have kept his magic sword a secret from them. After all, he had made no secret out of it from Sypha and Trevor, and they were far more formidable opponents if it were to come to face them in a battle than Taka and Sumi ever could have been. He kept telling himself, he'd show them magic with time. Once they trusted him, and he trusted them fully. And here they were too impatient, too scared, too damaged to expect anything but abuse, no matter how much he'd given them, how hard he'd tried. And here <em>he</em> was. Suffering the revenge for that abuse, knowing full well that they never intended it for him. But knowing also that they could see nothing but betrayal even in the slightest of hesitation, and they saw no way to avoid it other than betraying him. </p><p>He wasn't sure what brought him to his old childhood room afterwards. He just found himself helplessly sobbing on the burned carpet right next to the spot he'd killed his father on, wrapped tightly in the sheet that was soaked in their blood and in the tokens of their fierce loving. And he cried. He'd cried after Sypha and Trevor left. But this was different. Then his mind was clear. Sadness clouded his thoughts, but the thoughts were still there. Now, there were no thoughts. His mind itself was an open wound, he was an open wound, and he buried his face in his palm as if he wanted to physically stop his sanity from simply slipping out of his head under the pain. He couldn't breathe. He could only take an occasional ragged gasp, and he cried out begging for it to stop. </p><p>It took a while for it to stop. The cold air of the dawn on his bare back was the first sensation that registered, coming in through the broken window, and he lied there spent, his hair soaked in his tears. His vision cleared slowly as the last tear rolled down his cheek, and he followed the curves of his lower arm, hand and his knuckles lying right in front of him on the floor, until his eyes came to rest on the tiny shining light shimmering off his father's wedding ring. The rising sun twinkled on the gold band and each time he closed his eyes, the sharp rays of that tiny light was still there playing in green and pink behind his eyelids. Birds started to sing, and the colors of the room grew vivid. The light moved from the ring, and he rolled onto his back.</p><p>He gingerly sat up and wiped his long hair out of his face. That was when he noticed them on his arms. The wires of the manacles left red burn marks on his skin. He gasped looking over his chest and abdomen. His wounds were like tattoos. People wore those to be reminded of something, he thought vaguely. He ran his fingers over his skin in disgust. Well. His tattoos were there to remind him never to trust humans again. His fingers found the wound his father had given him. And <em>that</em> reminded him never to trust a vampire ever again. He came from two worlds and neither was better than the other! His hands tightened, and he groaned as he got on his feet.</p><p>He shuffled out of the room with a hunching back. He felt as if he had been tied, beaten up with a club and then thrown out on a pile of garbage. He stumbled down the stairs, out of the Castle to the river. He had only one thought in his head. He needed to get rid of their smell on his skin. The ice cold water was sobering, and he submerged into the clean running waves. He opened his eyes underwater. His golden locks swam into focus in front of his face. They were dancing cheerfully with the rays of the sun. It was a strangely mesmerizing vision, and for a moment, he felt tempted to stay down to watch in the oblivious silence and never to come up for air again... But something made him crawl out of the water and go back inside. </p><p>He went to the laundry room and put on clean clothes. He was buckling his belt when it dawned on him that they were still in his room bloody and dead. He dropped his arms to his sides. Even if he was never to sleep in that room again, they couldn't stay there. That was when the thought formed. </p><p>He expected to be shocked to see their dead bodies and lifeless stares again. But there was nothing but a slight bitterness. Then a strange tranquility descended on his soul as he walked up to them and closed their eyes. He dressed them up. Crazy as it was, he couldn't be angry at them, he couldn't humiliate them by leaving them naked. He found an odd symmetry in the gesture: last night they stripped him of his clothes, and in the morning, he was dressing them up. Now, <em>he</em> was in control.</p><p>"Weren't you throughout?" he asked aloud, taking Sumi's body into his arms. His eyes travelled from her face to Taka's. They were eternally peaceful.</p><p>When they were up on the stakes, on their final resting place, he took a few steps and looked at his handiwork. He didn't do it to take revenge on them. He did it because it was necessary. Their sight made him wonder about his father's reasons for creating his own Forest of the Dead. Was it really because he simply hated humans so much?</p>
<hr/><p>He gasped as the memories faded, and the sunlight through the leaves appeared in their place. He started walking slowly again. If he hadn't lost his mind yet, it might come to those who wait, he mused stoically calm about the prospect.</p><p>As the Castle appeared dark and tall, he glued his tired eyes strictly on the gates, so that his new "guardians on stakes" would stay out of focus. </p><p>He frowned. Țepeș. His father's name. His own name. It meant "Impaler," he said out loud and never before in his life had he felt closer to his father than in that moment. His hands came up into fists.</p><p>"Well," he muttered walking past the corpses. "I suppose I could've put up big signs all over the place. Do not enter. Danger of death. Abandon all hope. That sort of thing... But this seemed to work well enough for dead old dad."</p><p>The gates closed behind him with a thud, and he felt oddly comforted that those who had alleviated his loneliness for a little while, would also be the ones to guarantee that the world would stay shut out. Forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading it! TBH, I felt traumatized by what happened to Alucard at the end of Season 3 (in a very different way than I felt traumatized at the end of Season 2 lol), and this is my way of coping with it. This is my very first Castlevania fic - and in general, first non-Star Trek fic, so new territory. But given that he's pretty similar to an original character of mine (totally by accident), I care about Alucard a lot. So depressing as it was, it was a pleasure to dive into his mind.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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